


Nothing To Lose

by BloomingMiracle (Luna264)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Gen, and kokichis the important one, i dont feel like tagging them all, i thought of this in my math class and spent three hours writing it, technically everyone is in this but hey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 05:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20595728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna264/pseuds/BloomingMiracle
Summary: Ouma Kokichi doesn't really care about anyone.Okay, well, maybesomepeople.





	Nothing To Lose

Ouma Kokichi was eight years old, and he didn’t really care about anyone. He didn’t have a reason to, really. After all, none of them cared about him.

It was a particularly bad day, though, he thought as he looked out at the rain he’d have to walk home in and tried not to think about how hungry he was or how sick he was going to be over the next week or so. The other kids were walking, now, holding umbrellas in one hand and parents hands and coattails and bag straps in the other.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit jealous. Then again, he was already turning out to be quite the liar.

“Hey,” Someone said, and Kokichi didn’t turn, because there was no way they were talking to him. “ _ Hey _ ,” They said again, and he felt a tug on his sleeve.

He pulled his arm away, and kept looking at the rain.

Whoever was trying to talk to him had a brief exchange with an adult, who was trying to pull them away, and tugged on his sleeve again, more insistently.

“What?” Kokichi snapped, finally turning.

“Uh,” The kid said. “I just… You didn’t eat lunch today.”

“What’s it to you?” Kokichi asked, eyes narrowing.

The kid held out half a sandwich. “Here,” He said. “I wanted to give it to you earlier, but the bell rang.”

Kokichi blinked.

“Do you… want it?” The kid asked.

“What’s in it?” Kokichi looked  _ hard _ at the sandwich. Nothing  _ seemed _ wrong with it.

“Turkey and mustard,” The kid said.

“And?”

“That’s… it.”

Hesitantly, Kokichi took the sandwich, and unwrapped it, watching the other kid as he bit into it. It really  _ was _ just turkey and mustard. Huh.

The two of them stood there for a few more moments, before the adult sighed and dragged the other kid away.

Ouma Kokichi was eight years old, and maybe he cared about  _ one _ person.

\---

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen years old, he’d been  _ impeccably _ careful, and he was  _ mad as hell _ at that dumb bear and whoever was controlling him.

The other prisoners in this stupid game were, well,  _ mostly _ in the same mood as him. Akamatsu was annoyingly upbeat, and Yonaga didn’t really seem to be paying attention to what was going on.

Akamatsu approached him, now, and he gave her a dirty look.

“Aren’t you going to eat something?” She asked.

“What’s it to you?” He asked.

She glared back at him for a moment. It was a refreshingly  _ honest _ expression. After all, he was pretty sure Akamatsu was almost as much of a liar as he was.

“Come on,” She said. “Toujou made us all breakfast. I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you try some.”

Frame it as a favor for someone else. That was almost a classic move, Kokichi had observed, when people tried to get other people to let them in.  _ You _ were the one doing the favor, not  _ them _ . And if they could just get you to think they  _ believed  _ that…

“I’ll pass,” He said, and his stomach growled traitorously in complaint.

Were she someone else, Akamatsu might have grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the cafeteria. But she wasn’t. Akamatsu still wanted to believe that she was  _ nice _ .

Instead she put her hands on her hips. “Now,” She said. “Listen here. I don’t know what you think you’re going to accomplish with this, but let me tell you  _ right now _ that it’s not going to happen, you hear me?”

_ What. _

“You are going to that cafeteria, and you are going to eat,” She said.

Oh, hell. Akamatsu  _ wasn’t _ nice. She was  _ good _ .

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen years old, and  _ maybe _ he cared about Akamatsu Kaede.

\---

Ouma Kokichi was still sixteen, still angry, and had somehow let himself get roped into a cosplay consultation.

“You can stop suggesting girls any time,” He said casually. “Trust me, if I wanted to dress like a woman, I’d dress like one  _ now _ .”

“Sorry.” Shirogane Tsumugi waved her hands placatingly. “You just have such a face for it!”

“I’ve heard.” He kept his voice neutral. It wouldn’t do actually  _ explain _ things.

“Hm,” Shirogane said. “Maybe Killua? You’ve got the right expressions, at least.”

“Who’s he?”

“He’s an assassin from HunterXHunter,” She said.

“I don’t kill people,” Kokichi said, which  _ wasn’t _ a lie.

“No, but sometimes you look like you’d like to.” Shirogane shrugged.

“That would be a  _ terrible _ idea,” Kokichi laughed.

They talked for a while longer, actually.

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen, and  _ maybe _ he cared about Shirogane Tsumugi.

\---

Ouma Kokichi was still sixteen, still pissed, and getting the way.

“You  _ can’t _ come,” Amami said. “Trust me, you don’t want to, anyways.”

“I think you’ll find that I do,” Kokichi said, crossing his arms. “I want to know what you’re doing, so I want to come.”

“I’ll tell you when I get back, how’s that?” Amami said.

“We’ve got, like, half an hour until we  _ die _ ,” Kokichi said.

“If I’m not back before then, you won’t have to worry about that.” Amami pushed passed him and stalked off down the hallway. “Get back to that meeting. It’ll probably be better for you.”

Kokichi blinked.

Holy  _ shit _ , this was an act of self sacrifice. Kokichi couldn’t decide whether to follow him or listen to his last request.

Momota dragged him back into the game room, and that was that.

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen, and  _ maybe _ he cared about Amami Rantarou, but he  _ definitely _ knew it was too late for any of that.

\---

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen years old. Kaede and Rantarou had been, as well, and now they were dead.

Hoshi Ryoma had said he wasn’t going to use his lab, so Kokichi had set up the pitching machine and was trying to hit tennis balls out of the air, because there was nothing else to hit.

Hoshi Ryoma had, actually, been a liar, as well. He entered his lab, and paused.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be in here,” He said.

“Yeah?” Kokichi replied missing a few tennis balls. “Well, neither did I.”

Hoshi watched him, for a while. “You’re upset.”

“It’s not like I’m  _ heartless _ or anything,” Kokichi said. “No  _ shit _ I’m upset. Two people are dead.”

“Trying to take it out on the tennis balls won’t help you,” Hoshi said. He almost sounded bored.

Kokichi’s accuracy somehow managed to decrease. “Well, it’s not like I can  _ punch _ anything.”

Hoshi was quiet for a while longer. “You don’t really want to,” He decided.

The pitching machine ran out of tennis balls, and turned itself off.

“You don’t know me,” Kokichi said. “What makes you think you can say that?”

Hoshi shrugged. “I’ll help you put these away,” He said, picking up a tennis ball. “Come on.”

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen, he had no time to grieve, and  _ maybe _ he cared about Hoshi Ryoma.

\---

He would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t a  _ little _ put off by Shinguuji Korekiyo. Then again, he was quite the liar.

Still, though, the two of them  _ did _ have something in common, in that they didn’t really… connect with anyone. Kokichi forced himself to spend time with the other boy, ignoring the feelings of dread he felt when the two of them were alone, that made him think of a time he’d been walking home in middle school and had suddenly been possessed by the urge to run the rest of the way, only to learn the next day that the girl who walked that way a few minutes after him had been found dead.

Rationally, he knew, self isolation was an unhealthy instinct, and since nobody  _ really _ wanted to spend time with him  _ or _ Shinguuji, they both made themselves talk to each other.

“I feel like I’d seen you before we came here,” Shinguuji had said one day. “Not like we talked, but…”

“I have a cousin,” Kokichi said automatically. He didn’t but it was a lie he’d told often. It’d hold up. “People say we look alike, but I never really got why.”

“Maybe it’s your eyes,” Shinguuji said. “If you have the same eyes, that might do it, even if you don’t look at all alike in any other way.”

“Maybe,” Kokichi allowed, looking away. Shinguuji was right about one thing, at least; purple  _ wasn’t _ an incredibly common eye color.

“Perhaps I  _ have _ met your cousin,” Shinguuji said. “What’s she like?”

“I didn’t say my cousin was a girl,” Kokichi said.

“But she is, isn’t she.”

Kokichi spared a glance to Shinguuji Korekiyo.

He didn’t particularly like what he saw.

\---

Toujou Kirumi made people cook with her, and Ouma Kokichi wasn’t entirely sure why. Still, he relented to her pressure readily. He  _ could _ be stubborn, but he preferred to save it for things that mattered a little bit more than that.

She wasn’t going to kill him. People would know immediately if she did.

“Have you ever cooked before?” She asked him pleasantly as she set him to chopping vegetables.

“Once or twice,” He allowed. Once or twice or a thousand empty nights, when he hadn’t wanted to risk stealing from restaurants or starving.

“It’s a useful skill,” Toujou said. “I’ve been trying to teach everyone, especially since…”

She trailed off, but she didn’t  _ need _ to finish. Kokichi didn’t answer her, focusing more on the vegetables in front of him.

“What sorts of food have you made?”

“Whatever I had,” He said.

She didn’t respond right away, and Kokichi felt her eyes on him, considering what that might have meant.

“Well,” She said, finally. “There’s plenty of food here, at least.”

“For now,” Kokichi said.

Another pause. “What elementary school did you go to?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, well--” A pause, probably for a shrug-- “I was just wondering if any of us might have gone to the same schools when we were younger.”

Kokichi tried a few more times to dodge the question, but she was persistent. Eventually, when the tone of her voice offered no more room for argument, he told her. It wasn’t like it had been a  _ big _ school, after all. He figured she’d probably never heard of it.

“Oh!” She said brightly, and Kokichi cringed inwardly. “That’s the same school Saihara went to. Do you think you two might have known each other?”

Kokichi muttered something noncommittal.

Toujou talked to him a while longer, clearly trying to recall memories of some good time from him as they worked.

It was… touching, in a way.

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen, and  _ maybe _ he cared about Toujou Kirumi.

\---

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen, and he was in hell, and when he saw Yumeno Himiko crying outside the gym the night after Kirumi’s execution (two nights after Ryoma’s murder) he could tell that she was even worse off than he was. Really, it was quite the accomplishment.

  
“Sucks, huh,” He said, sitting down next to her.

“What do you want?” She asked. She was sad, and angry, and probably feeling more guilty than she had any right to be.

“Dunno,” He said. “Guess I just didn’t want to go to sleep yet.”

“This is all  _ your _ fault!” She declared. “If you hadn’t done-- done  _ that _ with-- with the videos--”

“You’re right,” He said. Perhaps he sounded a little  _ too _ casual, but dammit, he was  _ committed _ now. “So, why do you look like you blame yourself?”

She was even angrier now. “Just leave me alone!” She said. “Leave me alone before you get  _ me _ killed, too!”

“Alright, alright,” He said. “I’ll go. You shouldn’t be alone, though. Just a word of advice.  _ You _ , at least, might still find someone it’s safe for you to trust, yet.”

She threw her hat at him as he walked away.

\---

“Are you done?” Kokichi asked. Yonaga had leaned into his face about a minute prior, and was still squinting at him, leaning around and making appropriately focused noises.

“Angie needs to know your eyes,” Yonaga said. “So God can paint them.”

“... Okay?” Kokichi said. “Can Angie looked at my eyes from more than an inch away?”

“Mm… No,” Yonaga declared. “Have you ever been painted before, Ouma Kokichi?”

“No,” Kokichi said. “Why would I have?”

“You’ve got a unique energy,” She said. “A photograph wouldn’t catch it. Only a soul.”

“Hey, you know what?” Kokichi began to back away. “I just remembered I have somewhere to be. See you around.”

“No, you won’t.”

There was nothing different, in that sentence, from the way she had said  _ anything _ else. Still, Kokichi was hard pressed to hide the chill that ran up his spine.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked.

“I’m afraid this is the last time we’ll get the chance to talk here,” She said simply. “So, I’d appreciate it if you stuck around a little longer.”

Without waiting for an answer, she stepped forward and grabbed his wrist before dragging him off to her lab.

It was a strange thing, Ouma Kokichi decided, spending time with her in that state.  _ Maybe _ he cared about Yonaga Angie, but it didn’t matter that much. He couldn’t let it.

\---

He ran into Chabashira Tenko on his way out of Yonaga’s lab.

“Oh, she’s got  _ you _ , too,” Chabashira muttered. “Fucking  _ cult _ .”

“Oh, I’m not in the cult,” Kokichi said, although he knew his assurance didn’t mean much. “In fact, I’m not entirely sure what just happened.”

Indeed, Chabashira didn’t look like she believed him at all.

“I’m serious,” Kokichi said. “She’s even less inclined to explain things than  _ me _ .”

Chabashira let out a short laugh. “I guess you’re not wrong  _ there _ ,” She allowed.

“It’s getting kinda late, huh?” Kokichi said. “I’m gonna head to bed. You do your thing, I guess.”

“I  _ will _ ,” She answered curtly. “I don’t need a  _ male _ to tell me to.”

“Guess not,” He said. “See you tomorrow, I guess.”

Chabashira Tenko was… a character, Ouma Kokichi decided.  _ Maybe _ he cared about her, just a bit.

\---

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen, and he was standing in the trial room after Shinguuji Korekiyo’s execution, and he was an  _ idiot _ .

He’d  _ known _ something was wrong. He should have  _ said _ something.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Harukawa Maki asked, voice as dead as ever, yet filled with a hatred he knew he’d probably earned all of.

“Yeah, probably,” He said. “Are you?”

“What  _ are _ you?” She demanded.

He looked at her. Her face was dark with frustration.

He held up his hand, and drew a circle on his palm. He expression shifted, slightly, and she crossed her arms.

“Well,” She said, voice still saturated with disgust. “It’s not like I could have really killed you, anyways.”

“Saihara and Momota would probably miss you,” Kokichi agreed. “And I’m sure you’ve got better things to do with your time than die here.” He gestured to the execution grounds.

“Get  _ fucked _ ,” Maki said, with feeling. Then she turned around and left.

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen, and  _ maybe _ he cared about Harukawa Maki.

\---

Iruma Miu was a character in a class of her own, but she was smart and energetic and always  _ doing _ something, which was about what Kokichi needed, anymore.

At that moment, what she was doing was trying to convince Kiibo to let her upgrade him.

“Don’t you want to  _ fly _ ?” Iruma said, eyes shining. “Come on, Keebs, think of the possibilities!”

“You could fly away from this conversation, for example,” Kokichi said, earning himself a light-hearted shove from the inventor.

“I’ll pass,” Kiibo said. “Really, I’d much rather be as human as possible.”

“You’re already a  _ robot _ ,” Kokichi said. “You might as well be a  _ cool _ one.”

Iruma nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Kiibo insisted.

“Alright,” Kokichi said. “At least hang out, if you’re not gonna let Iruma give you rocket feet.”

“I like having regular walking feet, thank you,” Kiibo said. If he’d been human, he might have been sweating nervously.

The AI that made him who he was  _ was _ fascinating, even to someone as useless with machines as Kokichi.

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen, and  _ maybe _ he cared about Iruma Miu and Kiibo.

\---

“Wait,” Kokichi said, and Gokuhara Gonta turned to look at him. “We need to stop this  _ now _ , big guy.”

The larger boy released the ends of the indestructible paper in his hands and the avatar of Iruma Miu fell to the ground.

“Why isn’t she moving…?” Gokuhara asked.

“We were too late,” Kokichi said, voice hollow.

“Too late for what?”

He was so  _ innocent _ , and now he was guilty.

“Too late,” Kokichi said again. “I-- I’ve got an idea. Here, come on.”

In the course of a few minutes, they’d gotten Iruma’s body to the other side of the barrier.

“Now what?”

“What side did you plug each of the cords into?” Kokichi asked.

Gonta told him.

“Good,” Kokichi said, shaking. “Good, that means you’re not going to remember this.”

“Ouma?” Gokuhara asked, alarmed.

Kokichi turned to him, tears streaming down his face. “Let’s get out of here.”

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen, he was an idiot, and  _ maybe _ he cared about Gokuhara Gonta.

He was going to have to find a way to prolong the trial. It was all he could do for the guy, now.

\---

Ouma Kokichi shut himself inside his dorm room and collapsed, sobbing. He was  _ never _ going to get this right. He had no idea what getting this sort of thing right even meant.

Saihara had told him he was alone, and he’d been right.

Ouma Kokichi was alone.

Ouma Kokichi had  _ always been _ alone.

He couldn’t even be mad at the other boy for saying it. He’d  _ earned _ the hatred of his peers here. There was nothing he could do to get their respect back, if he’d even had it in the first place.

A thought struck him.

There was one more thing he could do.

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen, he had a terrible plan, and  _ maybe _ he cared about Saihara Shuichi.

\---

Ouma Kokichi was sixteen, and he was about to die.

He could hardly believe that Momota was actually going along with this, but, then again, if he didn’t then Kokichi supposed Harukawa would die of this whole situation.

There had been a few slips, in the course of the plan. Some of them, Kokichi doubted he’d have been able to  _ ever _ forgive himself for, even if he’d had the time.

He didn’t have the time.

_ Maybe _ he cared about Momota Kaito.

But that wasn’t going to matter for much longer.


End file.
